


Raven & Snake

by Magi_Silverwolf



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battling with Magic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Use of True Name Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 21:32:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11700297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magi_Silverwolf/pseuds/Magi_Silverwolf
Summary: There were things that history got wrong about Merlin & Morgana. Their mutual dislike for each other was not one of those things.





	Raven & Snake

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.  
> Warnings: This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. This story makes reference to the circumstances of Arthur’s conception in questionable light. There are also the implied deaths of children. As always, please take your personal sensitivities into consideration before and while reading.
> 
> Author’s Note (01): This story makes reference to a portion of Arthurian Lore that is often viewed as contentious. For the purpose of clarification, I have elected to use the version of the story where Merlin gave Uther the appearance of Gorlois (Igraine’s husband) which Uther then used to bed Igraine, leading to the conception of Arthur. After successfully managing to slay Gorlois, Uther then took Igraine as his queen. As this is a non-consensual relationship, I am electing to _not_ use the character tag "Igraine Pendragon" that is provided by AO3.  
>  Author’s Note (02): Words that may interest y’all: màthair (mother); athair (father); caileag (daughter); Caledonia (the old Roman name for the Scottish Highlands)

-= LP =-

_Raven & Snake_

A Meeting

-= LP =-

“Needless to say, urgings by ravens are ignored at one's peril.” – James D. Ross

-= LP =-

 

“Will you tell me the tale again, _màthair_? Just once more,” begged the child resting against her side. Igraine smiled down at Morgana, her precious reminder of her beloved husband. The stolen queen ran her fingers through the girl’s dark locks, still worn loose in the freedom of childhood. Soon (too soon for her heart), her daughter would need to begin plaiting and coiling the length of black silk, but not this afternoon. This afternoon was allowed to be peacefully golden.

 

“You say that every time, my love,” Igraine replied, “but I can deny you nothing that is so easily within my power to give. Once there was a mighty king known to all as Gorlois the Kind. He ruled over Cornwall with both wisdom and might. There came a man who coveted what Gorlois held dear, not just his holdings but also his most loved treasure of all. Uther the Pendragon laid siege to Tintagel, demanding Gorlois lay down arms and turn over the wife crafted for him by the Gods. Unable to bear the idea of betraying his beloved any more than he could willingly carve the heart from his breast, the king refused and vowed to never let Uther lay even a single finger upon her.”

 

“Did he really love his wife so much?”

 

“Oh, so very much, _caileag_ ,” Igraine replied, tucking a strand of hair behind Morgana’s ear. “Not all men are brutes who take what should only be given. Never doubt that you and your sisters were born of a love that would defy the kingdoms of Man.”

 

“Do you think I’ll ever find someone that will love me as _athair_ loved you?”

 

“No mortal can know the will of the Gods, but I have faith that you will someday. They would not have blessed you so without some plan. Anything less would be a betrayal of Their own oaths.”

 

“The Father does not believe as you do.”

 

“Men are foolish creatures, my little faery,” Igraine declared. She tapped her daughter’s nose. “That is why the Gods crafted women—so there would be someone to listen to Their wisdom. It does not matter if men are fools so long as there are women to carry magic into the world.”

 

“But _màthair_ , there are also men who carry magic! Like the one who aided the Pendragon!”

 

“The Ways of Magic do not always make sense to mortal reasoning. You must remember that always, my love. We are limited by the bounds of time, always existing as a blink of the eye to Magic’s eternity. Magic is a god unto Itself, flowing through all of Creation and Entropy. To know It fully is to know both sides of Its essence, to embrace Death as readily as one does Life. Many would fear such a person and none would understand her.”

 

“Do you think it would be as lonely as living here?”

 

Igraine looked around their small garden. They were mostly alone in this small cottage at the outskirts of the village, far away from the fighting of Londinium that had followed in the wake of Uther’s untimely death. Caledonia was colder than the home she had shared with Gorlois in Cornwall. The winters were longer here and the days shorter. Already, the Lady had reclaimed two of the daughters she had borne for her honorable husband. It may have been a punishment for abandoning the child Uther had put in her womb, but as she had just told her remaining precious one, a mortal could not know the wills of the Gods. They were safe here, protected, even from priests too outspoken for their own good. No one knew them as Uther’s Stolen Queen and the forgotten princess of a fallen king. Their isolation kept them safe from those who would use them, either for political or military power. It kept them hidden from those who would avenge Uther.

 

“Are you so unhappy, my little bird?”

 

The girl wrapped her arms around Igraine’s waist and tucked her head against the curve of her breast as she had not in the last few years. Igraine returned the embrace as a sense of foreboding settled around her like a cloak. The golden afternoon from before now had a dark cast to it. The shadows were dark and long. As if sensing the same thing, Morgana pressed her nose into Igraine’s bodice and breathed deeply.

 

“I will always be happy as long you are with me, _màthair_.”

 

“Then I will always be near, my dearest one,” Igraine promised, whispering the words into the curls resting on Morgana’s brow, “even if I cannot always be seen with the eyes.”

 

“Such touching lies you share, Lady Cornwall. Did you whisper such sweet words to your king before you sank the dagger into his heart?”

 

Igraine raised her head without rushing. The next few moments would need careful handling. Giving into the recklessness urged by the fear now filling her would see all that she had salvaged from those dark days after the fall of Tintagel destroyed like her life before that point. The warlock standing at her garden gate oozed confidence. She knew that he had every right to that confidence, having seen him in battle alongside Uther. Merlin Ambrosius was a formidable combatant known for being just as merciless as the false king he had served. Igraine shivered when she saw that while his words were directed at herself, his gaze rested upon Morgana.

 

“So this is the child that is being whispered about? She’s not much, is she?”

 

“You are not what I envisioned either,” Morgana countered as she pulled away from Igraine. The girl stood as tall as any child who had only seen ten winters could. It was nothing compared to the living legend before them. She was barely taller than Igraine was sitting. Yet she raised her chin defiantly at the battle-wizard. “I find myself sick with the knowledge that such a monster as yourself should look like a man.”

 

“You amuse me, foolish child. You accuse me of monstrosity while clinging to that murderess behind you. It merely shows that children know nothing of monsters.”

 

“I know more than you would like, _Emrys_.”

 

The shadows at the edge of the garden grew deeper still. The summer sun seemed hidden by clouds, making the air colder. Power rippled the air as the two magi challenged each other. Igraine knew that she would never be able to keep pace with them if it came to a battle. Even if her skill did not lay in the art of healing, Igraine’s reserves were meager compared to the overspill coming off her child. Between one breath and the next, Igraine realized that her little faery-child could stand up to a fully-grown man who was said to be born of Magic Itself. Merlin’s magic was blinding in its pure alignment; it was like looking directly at the sun at its zenith.

 

None of that mattered to the tiny witch staring him down like he was nothing more than an unruly cur. Shadows dripped from her dark hair and spread across the ground at her feet. Frost raced before the encroachment, intricate lacework standing in sharp relief on the emerald leaves of the clovers. Igraine wanted nothing more than to pull the girl away from the darkness as something within her rebelled instinctively. Igraine had always called her youngest daughter _faery_ for her otherworldly beauty, even going so far as to give her a name like the Phantom Queen’s own. Never before this moment had Igraine had cause to truly doubt her beloved child’s humanity. Even the great and powerful Merlin wavered before the dark well of magic being unleashed by the girl.

 

“How do you know that name?”

 

“Are you so arrogant as to believe that Magic speaks only to you? After you used Her to do the things you’ve done?”

 

“You do not understand the things of which you speak, child.”

 

“What is there to misconstrue? You used Magic to hide the shape of a man so that he may take liberties with a woman who had refused him. Neither of you respected what Magic had already wrought in their hearts and souls. The Pendragon had no connection to Magic, but _you_ —“ Morgana shook her head, making her wild curls flop around her. Her tone was far too tired for her youth. Igraine regretted the part she played in creating that tone, having dreaded it even more than the impending need for braids and buns. “Magic is your _Mother_ , even beyond granting you Her gift. How do you manage to not weep until your tears turn crimson with blood?”

 

“You are a child—“

 

“And yet I know better than a man who has lived my years five times over.”

 

“Control your child, Igraine!”

 

“Do not dare to speak to her,” Morgana hissed. Igraine could only sit frozen under the combined weight of their magical presences as they fought without movement or active spells. Magic in its purest form thickened the air, choking her. The only thing keeping her from crumbling under the pressure was strength of will imbued in her by her oaths to serve Britannia. Queen, stolen, fallen, or false, Igraine was just a simple healer when it came to wielding her gift. This was not a battlefield upon which she belonged, even if it was shameful to let her child stand as a shield. “Never speak another word to her, Emrys, son of Adhan.”

 

“She murdered the king!”

 

“No,” Morgana denied. “She killed an imposter and a thief, a man who styled himself an emperor and thought himself wiser than the Gods. Besides which, death is inevitable and death by the hand of one’s  victim is _justice_ , not murder, regardless of rank or power. Leave my home, Merlin, before I make that a command as well.”

 

“I will be back,” Merlin vowed as he backed out of the garden he had not truly entered. The shadows surrounding Morgana rippled with amusement. The freezing air relaxed into refreshing coolness.

 

“Of that I have no doubt,” the girl agreed. She raised her left hand and gave the fingers a mocking wiggle. “You will not find what you seek, for Magic has hidden it Herself, but feel free to try. Everyone is allowed to be foolish occasionally, even great and powerful warlocks.”

 

“I will make you pay!”

 

“I do not doubt that either.”

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written for a challenge in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) on the FFN forum.
> 
> **The Challenge Information:**  
>  House: Gryffindor  
> Subject [Task No.]: History (Merlin & Morgana) [Task 02: Merlin’s First Encounter with either Arthur or Morgana]  
> Prompt[s]: Betrayal [word]; Fear [word]; Blood [word]; Emerald Green [color]  
> Word Count: 1744


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